


A History of Disregarding Orders

by whenshewrites



Category: American Assassin (2017), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is Stiles Stilinski's Anchor, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hale-McCall Pack, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, Loss of Identity, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Spy Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is Derek Hale's Anchor, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, The Pack Being Idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23973772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: They told him his name was Mitch Rapp and he had a mission; to take out the alpha of Beacon Hills. But something isn't right. Because Mitch? He has the memories of another life. The people of Beacon Hills? They all seem to think he's someone else.And the alpha? He refuses to see Mitch hurt.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 70
Kudos: 198





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because I have no self-control and have wanted to write this fic forever. Here we are!

He only knew three things.

His name was Mitch Rapp, he was twenty-one years old, and his survival depended on his cooperation.

Mitch woke up in a room that was far too bright. White light reflected off the cold wall and there was a pair of cuffs wrapped around his wrists. He sat in a bolted chair that faced a metal table, and there was a blonde-haired woman sitting across from him.

His head pounded.

“Good morning, Mr. Rapp,” the woman said. She was smiling.

Mitch opened his mouth, but he couldn’t form words for a moment. His tongue felt heavy and he could taste blood, but he couldn’t remember why. He barely had any feeling in his fingers and toes, much less enough to speak. Alarm rose in his throat.

“Give it a moment,” the woman said. “The feeling will come back to your body soon. You’ve been out for a couple of hours.”

“Where,” Mitch managed. “Where am I?”

“Somewhere secure. Take a deep breath and clear your head.”

“What—” Mitch finally blinked and jerked against the cuffs, making them rattle. They pinched into his skin. “What happened? Who are you?”

“My name is Kate Argent,” the woman said. “I work for the government.”

“Why am I here?”

Mitch jerked back as a hand covered his own. The touch was cold and gentle, and while he stopped struggling against the cuffs to stare at Kate, ice washed through his entire body. Kate smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You know me,” she said. “Just give you mind a second to catch up, Mitch.”

Mitch stared at her; at the cold hazel of Kate’s eyes and the faint lines around her mouth. It was a look he thought he should recognize, but didn’t know why. Or how. Once more, panic rose in his throat and he blinked a few times, leaning away.

“Why can’t I remember anything?”

Because he couldn’t. Mitch couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here or what he'd been doing the day before. He couldn’t… he couldn’t remember anything. Not a day ago, not a week. All he knew was a blossom of pain and then he woke up. When Kate didn’t answer, he yanked on the cuffs again.

“Why can’t I remember anything, dammit!”

“Because,” Kate said. “You went through a memory wipe before waking up.”

Mitch froze. “What?”

“It’s standard protocol,” Kate said. “Things will come back eventually, one bit at a time.”

“I don’t understand.”

Kate stood and moved around the table, circling the chair. Mitch tracked her every movement and took in the room around him for the first time. It was piteously empty other than the chair, the table, and a bundle of blankets atop a small mattress in the corner. There was a door that nearly blended into the wall on the other side of the room, but there was no handle on it. And no window.

Kate came full circle and gazed down at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Your name is Mitch Rapp,” she said. “You work for a branch of the CIA known as H.U.N.T.E.R.”

“H.U.N.T.E.R?”

“That’s what we call ourselves. Hunters.”

Mitch stared at her, words fleeing him. He didn’t know what to say or how to react. There was a pit in his stomach and some part of his brain screamed in denial. This was crazy, he’d lost his mind. But at the same time, some part of him recognized the words. Like he’d heard them before; not here, but somewhere else. Somewhere he couldn’t remember.

“What do you want from me?”

Kate chuckled and slipped a key from her pocket, kneeling down to unlock the cuffs. They fell to the ground with a clatter and Mitch didn’t move for a moment, staring in shock. Kate rested a hand on his knee. 

“I don’t want anything from you, sweetheart. It’s you who went through this process to prepare for your upcoming mission.”

“Mission?”

“Yeah,” Kate said, smirking. “Infiltration, assimilation, and elimination.”

* * *

Mitch was left alone to absorb the information.

Kate had pushed herself up and the door had slid open, as if someone was working it on the other side. She’d glanced at him one more time before leaving, but Mitch was staring at the floor. He couldn’t meet her eyes; couldn’t see that small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Like she knew something he didn’t. Blood roared in his ears.

_H.U.N.T.E.R._

Mitch felt like he recognized the name, but he couldn’t place where. And it was driving him crazy. He closed his eyes and realized his fingers were trembling. Panic crashed over him in waves and he could feel it shutting down the rest of his world. Turning the room red and cutting the breath from his lungs.

Mitch dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. One after another, tapping his fingers unconsciously against his forehead as he counted them. He didn’t know why, but it was calming. Mitch recognized this feeling; he’d felt panic like this before, even though he couldn’t remember where. For some reason, the counting helped.

_Infiltration, assimilation, and elimination._

Oh god, what had he gotten himself into? Kate expected something, that much was obvious. For him to… to do something? To kill someone? Mitch felt like he’d lost something he hadn’t wanted to, or hadn’t meant to. And a memory wipe? Would that have been something he’d ever agree to? Shit, Mitch could barely remember his own name, much less why he’d ever agree to do something like this.

To prepare for an upcoming mission, Kate had said.

Mitch shoved himself up and moved toward the door. He ran his fingers over the entirety of it, but there was no handle. He rammed a fist against the iron exterior and panic made him slam against it again. The sound echoed through the room. Soon, Mitch was pounding against the door with all his strength, and pain roared up his arms.

“Let me out!” He shouted, voice cracking. “Let me out of here!”

Blood roared in his ears. Mitch couldn’t get enough air and it seemed like the room was getting smaller. His blows against the door got weaker and he dropped his forehead against the cool metal, swallowing back a strangled sob. It all felt so familiar. Mitch slid to his knees and took a trembling breath, tears blurring his vision.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so helpless. He couldn’t remember anything _._

 _“Things will come back eventually,”_ Kate had said. _“Give it time.”_

Mitch closed his eyes and tried to think. He remembered a flash of pain before waking up here. Something that made his vision blossom red. He remembered feeling hands underneath his arms and dragging him away as soft voices grew fainter in the air.

But Mitch couldn’t remember what they said, or why he was knocked out. Another wave of panic tried to crash over him and he let this one, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Mitch didn’t know how he’d gotten here, but he knew he didn’t belong. He knew it wasn’t right.

_Infiltration, assimilation, and elimination._

_Elimination._

Was he a killer? Is that why he was here?

“H.U.N.T.E.R,” Mitch said quietly, rolling the word over his tongue. It helped, just hearing his voice. Despite the way it cracked and continued to shake. “H.U.N.T.E.R.”

Suddenly, he heard voices on the other side of the door and sat straight up. They sounded close, but not close enough. And they weren’t getting closer. Clenching his jaw, Mitch dug his nails into the palm of his hands and stared at the metal. He thought about trying to get out again or maybe even begging. Begging to be let out. But for some reason, he didn’t think that would work.

Instead, Mitch swallowed and drew back. He tried to think straight, analyzing the facts in his mind like a pinboard. One full of colors; green, yellow, and red. Maybe a bit of blue. Because blue…

_Blue’s just pretty._

Mitch blinked hard. The thought came and went before he could get a good grasp on it, and he didn’t know why. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He was here for a reason, that much was obvious. He was here for a mission; _infiltration, assimilation, and elimination._

A mission meant a target. A target meant a name.

Suddenly, another thought came darting through. This time, Mitch was able to catch it. Something from before he was knocked out; Kate’s smiling face and a file pressed into his hands. Inside was the photo of a man. One with dark hair and eyes that flashed fluorescent at the camera. The file said they were a color between grey and green. There was a name at the top of the page in bold.

_**'Derek Hale'** _

A target, Mitch realized. The target.

His target.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch gets used to his new life, Kate introduces him to his mission, and there's a new player in the game.

Mitch startled when the door slid open again.

He scrambled back and stumbled to his feet, hands tightening into fists. He’d been on the verge of falling asleep, despite the thoughts racing through his head, and hadn’t been expecting another visit so soon.

Kate stepped into the room, hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans, and smiled. Mitch regarded her silently.

“How are the memories coming, sweetheart?”

“Why erase them?”

Kate stepped aside and gestured toward the door. Mitch blinked at her, looked beyond it, and realized with a start he was being let out. Kate was allowing him to leave. Something about that felt wrong.

Still, Mitch started forward. He didn't get three feet though, before Kate’s hand snapped out and caught his elbow. Her grip tightened painfully. “Let’s be smart about this, Mitch, alright? I’m going to be right next to you the entire time, so try and avoid doing anything stupid.”

Mitch clenched his jaw and nodded once. Kate let go.

They started down the hallway and true to her word, Kate stayed at his side. Mitch thumbed the hem of his shirt and tried not to act too nervous, but he knew he was failing terribly. There were a million questions on his tongue and even more spinning through his head. Finally, he looked over at her. “What kind of division is H.U.N.T.E.R?”

“That’s a good question, sweetheart.”

Mitch looked at her silently. Kate glanced over and a small smile played over her lips as she studied his face. He didn’t like the look in her eyes. It was almost hungry. Mitch swallowed nervously and looked away. Kate chuckled.

“Hunters are a special team of agents that keep the public safe from… less orthodox threats.”

“Less orthodox threats?”

“Things of the supernatural category.”

Mitch came to a full stop and stared at her. There was no laughter in Kate’s eyes and she raised an eyebrow, pausing too. But that couldn’t be right. The supernatural— that wasn’t something that existed. Right? Mitch would know— but he didn’t know anything. What kind of knowledge had been wiped from his mind before waking up?

“Supernatural?” He asked, voice a little shaky.

“H.U.N.T.E.R was created to deal with these kinds of things. Make sure the public doesn’t find out about them and on necessary occasions, if they become a threat, take them out.”

Mitch stared at her. Kate’s eyes were cold and cruel, and his skin crawled a little. She shrugged and started forward again, and Mitch had no choice but to follow. The corridor they followed was poorly lit and cold, with no windows. They were somewhere underground, Mitch realized.

“Hunters go through years of training and preparation to stand against the supernatural,” Kate said. “You’ll find yourself with instincts you don’t expect and skills most people don’t have.”

“But why erase it all? Why can’t I remember anything?”

“Because sometimes,” Kate said, glancing over at him. “The past can prove to be a hindrance, sweetheart. This is your first mission. It’s a clean slate on which you’ll build your future.”

Mitch stared at her. Kate smirked.

“Every hunter begins with a clean slate,” she said. “It’s the final test.”

“Final test?”

The chuckle he received wasn’t an answer, but Mitch was starting to realize Kate’s responses tended to raise more questions. He couldn’t shake off the feeling of an itch underneath his skin; like an inflection, not a sensation. Mitch clenched his jaw and focused on the hallway they were following. 

“Where are we going?”

“You’re going to meet someone,” Kate said. “One of our top hunters.”

“I remember his name,” Mitch said. “My target.”

Kate came to a sudden stop and looked sharply over. Mitch paused too, turning to meet her gaze with a raised chin. Kate looked both surprised and a little… nervous? Or maybe even impressed. Slightly amused. She raised a brow and tilted her head, blonde hair falling over one shoulder. “Oh?”

“Derek Hale.”

Kate’s eyes glittered. “You’ve always been a bright one, sweetheart.”

“Am I supposed to kill him?” 

“Something like that,” Kate said, starting to walk again. “You’re going to get close to him and get to know him. Get us some intel that'll prove useful.”

Mitch didn’t know how to answer that, forcing his feet to move again. The hallway ended as they came to a closed door, also with no handle. Kate paused and looked at him again, the amusement gone from her face. This time, her expression was flat. Cold. 

“Then, yes,” Kate said. “You’ll kill him.”

* * *

Stiles blinked against the sudden light.

They came over the top of a set of stairs and suddenly, he could see people. Not just stoic guards, but men and women in uniform, moving back and forth. He gaped, but most of them didn’t even look over. 

They were in some sort of large, windowed warehouse. Kate led him toward another set of stairs and Mitch tried to take everything in as they walked. He tripped over his own feet climbing up the stairs and Kate gave him an amused glance. Mitch swallowed hard, facing burning.

He couldn’t fight the feeling that none of this was familiar. This wasn't something he knew or remembered— he didn’t think. It was like walking into an entirely new world; the hunters were all armed and a lot of them were dressed in black. Mitch got a few hard looks as he walked by but for the most part, people ignored him. As if he was just another face in the crowd. If anything, they gave Kate more attention.

Mitch followed her up to the next floor, fingers tapping nervously against his thigh. He felt a bit like a stranger in his own body; it was his limbs and his movements, but everything else was different. His mind and body weren’t the same. Mitch thought he could fight back, make a run for it, and maybe even escape, but his legs wouldn’t move. His mind whispered a quiet _wait._

They reached a set of doors with two armed men standing outside of it. They regarded Mitch but nodded at Kate and stepped aside. She smirked at them, moving into the room, but Mitch hesitated for a second. His heart pounded like a drum against his chest. His feet felt heavy as he forced himself forward again.

There was a large desk at the end of the room and a grey-haired man sitting behind it. Kate took a position at his side and Mitch crossed the room carefully, hands clenched into fists at his sides. The man behind the desk was old and wrinkled, but his eyes carried decades of calluses. There was a smile on his face but like with Kate, the expression didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hello, Mr. Rapp,” the man said. “I’ve been looking forward to this meeting.”

Mitch swallowed and gazed silently at him. He thought he should say something, but he didn’t know what. The old man chuckled and gestured to the chair in front of the desk, which Mitch sank into after a moment’s hesitation. 

“My name is Gerard Argent,” the old man said. “I’m what you could call the head of H.U.N.T.E.R.”

 _Argent._ Mitch looked at Kate, who smiled. Once more, he felt like he should say something, but no words came. The name rang familiar through his ears. Mitch sat in silence instead of answering and Gerard raised a brow.

“You’re unusually quiet, Mitch.”

“He remembers Hale,” Kate said. Gerard straightened a little.

“Is that so?”

“Just his name,” Mitch said. “I remember looking at his file. Before…”

“Before the wipe, yes?”

_The wipe._

Gerard said the words like they were completely normal. Mitch clenched his jaw and nodded quietly. Gerard chuckled and pulled out a file from a cabinet in his desk, pushing it across the smooth surface. Mitch looked at it, then back at the old man, and Gerard nodded.

“That might help.”

Mitch took the file and flipped it open. His breaths stalled in his throat.

His own face gazed back at him. Or at least, a version of it. He had a thick beard in the photo and a gash above his right eye, looking fresh. There was a list of information underneath his headshot, just like there’d been with Hale’s file. Mitch’s name, age, and all the things he was. Height, weight, date of birth. All the things he was; or should be. For some reason, Mitch still felt like he was looking at a stranger.

His expression of uncertainty must be obvious because Gerald leaned forward. “The wipe is something every hunter goes through, Mitch. It’s a graduation requirement, if you will.”

“I just—” Mitch said, trailing off before swallowing. “I don’t remember anything before waking up.”

“As do all the hunters around you. But this is a clean slate, Mr. Rapp. All the important things will come back eventually and all the unnecessary bits will stay in the past.”

Mitch’s stomach was in a knot. “Right.”

“This is your second chance,” Gerard says. “If you’re willing to take it.”

There was something else in the old man’s voice. The edge of a threat. Some part of Mitch knew that if he wasn’t willing, he wouldn’t be leaving this room alive. But he was determined to survive this; whatever this was. So Mitch closed the file and looked up, placing it on the desk. “Yes, sir.”

Gerard’s eyes glittered. He pushed over another file, one Mitch took without hesitating this time.

He recognized the photograph of the man inside. That flash of memory. _Derek Hale._ Mitch studied the notes beneath the man's picture and took in the details just like his own.

Derek was twenty-seven years old, living in the small town of Beacon Hills, California. He looked angry in the picture, face hard and wearing a tight frown. Mitch looked up and realized both Gerard and Kate were watching him carefully. He raised a brow.

“Why him?”

“Because of what he is.”

Mitch narrowed his eyes. Kate nodded at the second page and when Mitch glanced down to read it, his heart stuttered. He stared at the words for a moment.

_Species: Werewolf_

_\- Alpha_

_\- Born wolf_

_\- Full shift_

“He's a werewolf,” Mitch said, swallowing. Kate smirked.

“He’s the alpha of Beacon Hills.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Her gaze hardened a little, but Gerard only smiled, as if Mitch’s words were amusing rather than offensive. “Beacon Hills is an epicenter for many things supernatural,” he said. “H.U.N.T.E.R has had their eye on the town for years, but only recently have things begun to get… rockier there. Beacon Hills is a society of supernaturals under the protection of a pack that calls themselves Hale-McCall.”

“A pack?”

“A toss-up of supernaturals, living among the humans there,” Gerard said. “We don’t know what the people of the town know and what they don’t. But needless, that's dangerous.”

Mitch looks at the page again. His mouth had gone dry.

“Your mission is to get close to Derek Hale,” Gerard said. “Get him to trust you and get to know exactly who he is. What he is. What his strengths and weaknesses are, and how they can be used against him. H.U.N.T.E.R believes that Hale might be the key to exterminating all the supernaturals that have wormed their way into Beacon Hills.”

In the silence following Gerard’s words, every part of Mitch’s brain is screaming _get out._ This couldn’t be something he signed up for. Agreed to. But here he was, sitting in this man’s office, and holding a file that felt more and more real beneath his fingers. Mitch swallowed, forcing himself not to drop into a panic attack again. Kate tilted a brow.

“Rapp?”

“I don’t— I don’t think I’m the right person for this.”

Gerard sighed. It wasn’t one of irritation or displeasure like Mitch would’ve expected, but of understanding. He looks up to see the old man nodding.

“I expected that reaction. Especially in regards to the loss of your memory.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gerard opened his desk drawer again, pulling a sleek, thin laptop out. He glanced at Kate for a moment before opening it and turning the screen toward where Mitch sat. Mitch straightened, looking cautiously at the man, and Gerard pursed his lips, clicking the play button.

Not even ten seconds passed before Mitch was yanking back, looking at them angrily.

“What the hell is this?”

Gerard didn’t answer, only nodded back toward the screen. Mitch forced himself to look again, clenching his jaw so tight his teeth gnashed. 

The screen was shaking as the person recording jerked back and forth, trying to capture everything that unfolded. There were sharp growls coming through the audio and as Mitch watched, he caught sight of himself; a younger him, at least. One with short hair and loose, baggy clothes. The person recording was saying something that sounded like _‘dude! Those costumes are epic!’_ and then something with glowing blue eyes cut across the screen. 

The younger Mitch held a baseball bat and swung at the thing, but missed and shouted in pain as he was caught around the neck, claws digging in deep before he was thrown back. Mitch finally got a full view of the creature. It had a twisted, distorted face, and fangs that gleamed in the moonlight. 

Whoever was recording straightened as the creature turned toward them and then the screen was a blur. It jolted up and down as the person tried to run, but he didn’t get five feet before Mitch heard a thud, a scream, and then the screen cut to black. The last thing he heard was a howl.

Mitch stared in silence. Gerard raised a brow, closing the laptop. 

“And that,” he said. “Is what happens when the supernatural is allowed to run around unchecked.”

“What was that thing?”

“An omega werewolf,” Kate said. “A werewolf without a pack. That’s how we found you, you know. The thing would’ve ripped out your throat, but one of our hunters shot it in the head first. You were badly injured when you were brought here, Mitch. That was four years ago.”

“Four years?’

“You’ve been training with H.U.N.T.E.R ever since,” Gerard said. “One of the best we’ve ever picked up off the streets.”

Mitch swallowed. “Do my parents know?”

“Your parents are dead, sweetheart,” Kate said sympathetically. “The idiot recording that fight wasn’t the first one to die.”

Mitch swallowed hard. His head was spinning and his stomach was clenched up in knots. He felt sick. Gerard slipped the laptop back out of view and looked at him for a long moment, before sighing. “Not do you realize why we do this, Mr. Rapp?”

Mitch forced himself to meet Gerard’s gaze. It was steady and scrutinizing, if not a little dangerous. There was a dark warning behind the old man's eyes that some part of Mitch knew not to test. So, he nodded. “I do, sir.”

“And Derek Hale?”

Mitch looked back at the file. He still felt a little sick, but after seeing that, he was resolved as well. This was real; this was something he’d signed up for. Both Gerard and Kate were watching. Waiting. Gerard’s voice rang through Mitch’s ears.

_This is your second chance if you’re willing to take it._

“Derek Hale is my target.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch meets a couple new faces, a couple confusing faces, and gets into trouble.

Mitch agreed to the mission and was promptly knocked out.

Some part of him thought he should’ve expected it. The other part came back to consciousness in a confused rage, sitting straight up and grasping at the closest weapon he could find. It just so happened to be a water bottle; not much help, but he wrapped his fingers around it all the same, rounding on the closest threat. A man who startled with a shout, leaping backward.

“Woah, hey man, chill the fuck out!”

Mitch hesitated. They were in a car, he realized, and the other man looked like another hunter; a younger one with dark brown hair and wide eyes. Slowly, Mitch lowered the water bottle and gazed around, trying to blink the bleariness from his eyes and shake the dizziness clear from his head. “What happened?”

“We’re taking you to the dropoff point,” the hunter said, still eyeing him warily. “So let’s avoid any violence on the way there.”

“Uh,” Mitch realized he was still holding the water bottle. He let it drop to the car floor and shook his head again, grimacing. Pain pounded behind his skull. “Sorry.”

All he could remember was being in Gerard’s office. Mitch remembered agreeing to the mission, decision made and resolve iron, and then Kate was moving, something in her hands that pinched his neck. He didn’t even have a chance to react before everything had gone dark.

Drugs, Mitch realized with an irritated grunt. He rubbed at his neck and felt a small bump, wincing slightly. The guy opposite him raised a brow. 

“Still feeling it?”

“Why knock me out?”

The guy shrugged. “The usual orders. Makes the travel easier.”

Mitch’s confused annoyance must show on his face, because the other hunter sighed.

“This is your first mission, I’m assuming.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“I went through mine just a year ago,” the guy said. “Don’t worry, it gets better, but this is your chance to earn your place at H.U.N.T.E.R and Gerard Argent’s trust. So don’t fight it. Just follow orders and everything should be fine.”

Mitch eyed him dubiously, still rubbing at his neck. The hunter shook his head and sat up, offering out a hand.

“Name’s Matt. I’ve been here for a few years now.”

“Mitch,” he said, after a moment. Mitch ignored the hand, though, and Matt rolled his eyes, drawing his hand back. “Mitch Rapp.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Matt said. “Heard the whole story about how they picked you up.”

Mitch clenched his jaw and gazed around the car. He eyed the driver who hadn’t said a word, then looked out the window. The landscape rolled by in colors of brown and green. Mitch didn’t recognize any of it. “How long have I been out?”

“Couple of hours,” Matt said, shrugging. “We’re nearly there.”

“There as in Beacon Hills, there?” 

“That’s the spot.”

Mitch nodded and focused out the window again. The rest of the drive was quiet. Not tense, really, because Mitch didn’t see Matt as a threat. But he didn’t make any attempt to speak to the hunter either. In return, Matt didn’t talk either. 

Mitch couldn’t help but feel blank. He knew where he was going, he knew what his mission was, and he knew there was one way out; infiltration, assimilation, and elimination. But he still felt odd about it. Wrong.

_ “The number one rule to a successful mission,”  _ Kate had said second before the needle entered Mitch’s neck.  _ “Is don’t get attached.” _

Mitch didn’t know this Derek Hale person, so he wasn’t too worried. Not about that part, anyway.

Eventually, the van rolled to a stop. Confused, Mitch looked at Matt, who shrugged. They’d pulled off to the side of the road not even near a town; in fact, they were in the middle of nowhere. The closest thing was the woods off to the right and left. Matt gave him an apologetic look.

“This is as far as we go.”

“We’re not even near Beacon Hills yet.”

“This is the town’s boundaries,” Matt said. “There are wards that’ll tell the Alpha the second we cross into his border, so we don’t go any further from here. Only you.”

_ Wards?  _ Mitch had no idea what those even were. There wasn’t anything around them to prove this was even the edge of Beacon Hills, but Matt wasn’t moving. So Mitch rolled his eyes and slid the van door open, climbing out. Matt didn’t move to follow, only passed him a black duffle bag. When Mitch raised a brow, he shrugged.

“Clothes, weapons, phone, and laptop. All of the necessary stuff.”

“Can I use the laptop to make contact?”

“When there’s a need for contact, contact will be made with you.”

Mitch scowled at that, gazing down the empty road. It didn’t seem like there was anything for miles. “Where do I go from here?”

“Into town.”

Mitch looked darkly back at the man. But Matt shrugged and pulled the van door closed, and Mitch didn’t have a choice but to step back as the vehicle roared to life again. In a matter of seconds, it was turning around and starting back down the expanse of wooded road. In the other direction. 

Mitch set his jaw. “Right, thanks. Real helpful.”

He slung the duffle bag over his shoulder. It wasn’t terribly heavy, but not light either. Mitch couldn’t help but hope there were some good weapons in there. Something that could take out an Alpha werewolf;  _ ‘wolfsbane’  _ the thought shot through his mind without reason. Mitch closed his eyes for a second and shook his head. Then he forced them open again and faced the empty road.

Maybe someone else would come along and give him a ride into town. Because from where he stood, Mitch couldn’t see any other signs of civilization. Nothing but trees, barren road, and the gathering of storm clouds overhead. Of course.

At least, until he took a few steps forward. Then something in his gut  _ yanked. _

Mitch stumbled and blinked a few times, looking up to see a giant sign on the side of the road and beyond it, the tips of what looked like a small town. The sign read  _ “Welcome to Beacon Hills’.  _ One Mitch knew hadn’t been there before. He stood there for a second, staring in shock, then stepped back again and felt another ripple through the air. The town was gone. Two steps forward again and there it was, Beacon Hills in all of its glory.

_ This is as far as we go,  _ Matt had said. He’d known, Mitch realized. The bastard.

Mitch stared at the town for a long second before starting forward again. Better to get into town and find somewhere to crash than worry about being caught out here when the storm came. It looked like at least a five-mile walk.

But that wouldn't be a problem, Mitch realized ten minutes later.

Because as he continued to trudge down the road, bag slung over his shoulder, he heard the sound of tires against the dirt and the blip of a siren. Mitch turned around to see an approaching Sheriff’s car, slowly pulling up alongside where he stood. Mitch narrowed his eyes as the car came to a stop and the window rolled down. Inside, an older man with brownish hair peered out. Mitch raised an eyebrow and the man’s face did something strange.

“S-son?”

“Uh, hey there, sir,” Mitch said. “I’m not hitchhiking I swear, I’m just trying to get into town.”

“Stiles?”

Mitch blinked. “Sorry?”

The Sheriff’s expression was something of devastation and his eyes were cracked, but Mitch just stared. He hadn’t said anything wrong; he knew that. He hadn’t done anything wrong yet either, had he? Mitch gnawed at his bottom lip and chuckled nervously. 

“Uh, I can just keep walking. It’s fine.”

Mitch didn’t wait for an answer, starting to turn away. But the Sheriff quickly started his car again. “Where are you heading to?”

“Motel, I guess,” Mitch said. He assumed there was money in the duffle bag; he’d be pissed if there wasn’t. The Sheriff leaned over and popped the door open, before pulling back.

“Let me give you a ride.”

Mitch didn’t move for a second. He studied the Sheriff suspiciously and the man offered a small smile.

“We don’t get many visitors here, you know. But it’s kind of my job to make sure everyone in town does alright, including the visitors. I’m Sheriff Stilinski—” He studied Mitch’s face when he said the name. “If you’d like a ride to the nearest motel.”

“I was hoping for somewhere closer to all the action of the town, actually.”

The Sheriff barked out a strained laugh. “There’s not much action that goes on in Beacon Hills, Mr…?”

“Mitch. Mitch Rapp.”

Once more, the Sheriff’s face did a number of things. Mitch hesitated before climbing into the passenger seat and pulling the duffle bag over his knees. He could feel the Sheriff staring, but the man put the car back into drive and they started forward. The air was quiet for a few moments.

“So,” the Sheriff said. “What brings you to a quiet town like this, son?”

Mitch remembered what Gerard said about not knowing if the town was in on the supernatural side of things or not, so he just shrugged. “Travel.”

“Hm.”

Mitch wanted to study the Sheriff again but he focused out his window instead. The town wasn’t tiny or reclusive, but it wasn’t big enough to be daunting either. Mitch didn’t know exactly if that was a good thing or not. Word tended to get out faster in small places.

Mitch was hyper-aware of the Sheriff eyeing him every other second, but he didn’t acknowledge it. It seemed like the man recognized him— which couldn’t be possible. But if the Sheriff got suspicious of him or his reasons here, then Mitch could be in for a whole new world of problems. So he did his best to remain relaxed and unbothered by the glances.

“There’s not a lot to do here,” the Sheriff said after a moment. “Unless you’re one for the outdoors. Or the simple life, I guess.”

Mitch shrugged in answer and the Sheriff tapped a finger against the top of the steering wheel, but didn’t say anything else. Eventually, they pulled off the road and into the parking lot of a small motel. Mitch let out a breath of relief, only to notice the Sheriff was studying him again.

“If you need anything, Mr. Rapp, the police department is just two blocks down the street.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.”

Mitch climbed out and slung the duffle bag over his shoulder again. He turned toward the motel, but hesitated after a split second, tapping a knuckle against the car door glass. The Sheriff rolled it down with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Son?”

“Do you have a phonebook or something I could borrow?”

“I'm sorry?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Mitch said, shrugging. “He’s an… um, an old friend. I heard a rumor he might be living somewhere around here.”

“Hm.” The Sheriff clenched his jaw, eyes drinking in Mitch's face, and then he shook his head. “I don’t have anything on my person, son, sorry. But it’s a small town, everyone knows everyone. This friend of yours got a name?”

Mitch didn’t trust the Sheriff well enough to give him that. He shook his head and the man pursed his lips, eyes a little narrow.

“Shame. You sure?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said. “I’m sure I’ll run into him some point. Everyone knows everyone, right?”

The Sheriff chuckled tersely and nodded, rolling the window back up. Mitch stepped away as the man pulled out of the parking lot and turned to eye the motel. It was small; lonely. He sighed and hefted the bag higher up on his shoulder, starting forward.

Mitch had a feeling there was a lot more to this town than first meets the eye.

* * *

The room was fairly cheap and it had a window facing the rest of the town. Mitch was more interested in what the duffle bag contained than the close quarters of his tiny room, though. One that smelled faintly like cigarette smoke. He zipped the bag open to see all the things he’d expected.

A change of clothes. Quite a few changes, actually.

Cash. Thank god.

A laptop and a phone, both fully charged.

The necessities. 

A hunting knife, two pistols, and an assortment of bullets. Some glowing.

Mitch’s stomach growled as he finished unpacking. He put away his clothes and tucked the knife underneath his shirt, sticking both the guns, the box of bullets, and the laptop underneath his mattress. He glanced around the room and grabbed his phone before deciding with the daylight he had left, it’d be a good idea to scout out the town, gather his bearings, and maybe find some food. He’d like to get in and out of this job as fast as possible.

The streets were fairly quiet. Mitch would almost call them familiar due to the serene peace that hung in the air and the way all the people out didn't  _ look  _ like a bunch of supernatural creatures. It seemed more like a small town full of comfort, not one harboring a monster.

Mitch’s stomach continued to growl, but he found himself pausing in front of a building with the sign ‘Beacon Hills Used Books’ instead of going somewhere with food. He eyed it for a moment before pushing inside, the overhead bell ringing.

Mitch stepped in and glanced around. The store was small and filled with shelf after shelf of books. There was a counter at the very back where a girl stood with her back toward him and the phone pressed against her ear. Mitch started in that direction.

“‘Scuse me,” he said, eyeing her. “I’m looking for a phonebook or maybe a—”

The girl turned toward him with an irritated expression on her face, only to freeze. The phone slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor and Mitch startled back, raising a brow. 

“Um. Is everything okay?”

“Stiles?”

Mitch blinked. The girl stared at him with trembling lips, one hand drawing up to cover her mouth. She had strawberry-blonde hair and sharp green eyes that looked like they could cut iron. But the expression on her face was nothing other than disbelieving right now. Mitch pursed his lips and stepped away. “You know what, I can look somewhere else—”

“Stiles,” the girl said again. “Stiles, oh my god. How are you here?”

“Look,” Mitch said. “My name’s Mitch. I just need a phone book or something, I’m trying to make contact with a— friend. Is there any way you can help me?”

The girl just stared at him. Mitch clenched his jaw in irritation.

“Please? It’d really be helpful.”

“You’re not Stiles,” the girl said. Her eyes hardened and Mitch saw that flash of steel he’d noticed at first look. He fought back the urge to groan. What was it with the people in this town?

“No, I'm not. Is there any way you could—”

“You need to leave,” the girl said, cutting him off. Mitch blinked in surprise and she raised her jaw, movements trembling a little still. “Get out of here before I call the police.”

“Seriously?” Mitch said. “I’m just looking for a book. I didn’t even do anything!”

“Get out,” she repeated. “Now.”

Mitch stared. The girl started reaching for her dropped and he threw his hands up, taking a few steps back. "Okay, okay, I'm going. No calls necessary."

The girl's eyes were cold and unforgiving. Mitch lowered his hands and turned around, starting toward the door. He could feel the girl’s eyes drilling holes into his back all the way there. For a moment, he hesitated with one hand on the doorknob and glanced back. The girl raised an eyebrow and he opened his mouth for a second; before closing it again. Sighing, Mitch shoved out into the fading daylight.

The door swinging shut behind him, Mitch could only stare at nothing for a second. He stood on a sidewalk and stared, a dozen thoughts spinning through his head. What was her problem? What was everyone's problem he'd run into so far? Mitch scrunched up his nose and  rubbed his hand over his face with a sigh. Suddenly, he wasn’t so hungry anymore. Instead, he started back toward the motel, the idea of just ordering food later on lingering in the back of his mind. Curly fries, maybe. For some reason the very thought made his mouth water.

Mitch made it to his room without incident.  And found a shadow waiting for his arrival.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch is paid a visit and he comes to the realization Beacon Hills isn't all that it seems

The thing that grabbed him by the throat when Mitch entered his room wasn’t human. But it wasn’t animal either. It was something between a wolf and a man; a wild animal and a human being.

It was something out of nightmare, with human eyes that glowed blue, teeth that were turned into fangs, claws around Mitch’s throat, and a face mangled and covered in fur. But this wasn’t a man; this was a wolf. 

A werewolf.

Mitch was rammed against the wall and his breath cut from his lungs. He grunted and went for his knife but the second he wrapped his fingers around the handle, he was slammed against the wall again, hard enough that Mitch lost his grip on the blade and it clattered to the floor.

“Who,” a low voice snarled, pressing him harder against the wall. “Are you?”

It was obvious his room had been searched. Mitch had never been so relieved he’d hid his other weapons and laptop. He grappled at the fingers around his neck, only to drop his hands when the wolf dug his claws in deeper. Mitch gasped for air. “Can’t breathe—”

“Answer the question, or I’ll make sure you never breathe again.”

“I can’t  _ breathe,  _ you bastard,” Mitch wheezed out. 

The grip loosened, but only a fraction. Mitch could feel hot breaths against his face, making him cringe. “Who are you?”

“Mitch.”

“Mitch who?”

“Mitch Rapp,” Mitch said in a snarl. “What’s it to you?”

“What are you doing in this town? Why have you come here?”

“Visiting.”

“Lie,” the werewolf growled, slamming him against the wall again. Mitch choked out a noise of pain. “I can hear you lying, boy. Why are you here? What the hell do you want?”

Mitch clenched his jaw. “To find someone.”

“Who?”

He didn’t answer that. The claws pricked against his skin in warning.

“Tell me who.”

“Hale,” Mitch spat out. “I’m here to find Derek Hale.”

The grip faltered. “Hale? Why?”

“Because he’s a monster.”

The werewolf yanked back. He dropped Mitch to the ground but didn’t let go, fingers twitching around his neck. “What did you just say?”

Mitch curled his lips back in a defiant snarl. The werewolf’s blue eyes flared and he let go, taking a step back. Mitch tensed defensively, but the wolf didn’t attack him again. He got a full look at the creature then; bright blue eyes and a forehead that protruded. Fangs tipped at his bottom lip and his fingernails were curled into claws. 

A lump formed in Mitch’s throat.

He could see the parts that were a man, he thought. Brown hair and a calculating gaze. One part that was a monster and one part that might be human. But the creature itself was a beast. A mutt, Gerard had called them.

“I’m here for Derek Hale,” Mitch said again. “And I’m here to kill him.”

The wolf’s eyes flashed at that. Fangs bared in a snarl and Mitch could feel hot breaths against his skin. But he didn’t move, noting his knife on the floor near the beast’s feet. If he could move fast enough—

“What are you?”

Mitch blinked at that. “What?”

“That face you wear doesn’t belong to you,” the wolf said, moving closer. One claw tipped underneath Mitch’s jaw and raised his chin up. Mitch felt a small line of blood trail down his skin. The beast’s eyes flashed from blue to brown for a second. Or maybe it was just a trick of the light. “So what the hell are you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mitch said. The wolf tilted his eyes and then his eyes flashed again. They almost looked… surprised. And maybe a little intrigued.

Mitch took that opportunity to dive for his knife, fingers wrapping around the handle of the blade as he flipped back into his back, weapon brandished. Except his room was empty. There was no sign anything had even been in there, other than an open window. Mitch stayed on the floor for a second, staring at nothing, and then he rose unsteadily.

Something was happening in this town. Something he didn’t understand; something other than the werewolves. Mitch moved over to his window and closed it firmly, an itch forming underneath his skin that he couldn’t scratch.

Something was happening in this town and he was determined to find out what.

* * *

He felt like he was being watched the next morning.

Mitch avidly avoided the library and the police station, choosing instead to wander around the town. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there were eyes drilling into his back the entire time, no matter how often he looked over his shoulder. 

At one point, he ducked into the nearest coffee shop and wandered over to the counter, tapping his fingers aimlessly against his leg as he waited for someone to come out from the back. The smell of coffee beans and… cinnamon, or something, was almost familiar.

Like an echo at the back of his mind that Mitch couldn’t get a good grip on.

A blonde-haired girl suddenly appeared from the back, nose flaring. Mitch could’ve sworn her eyes turned gold for a moment, but then they were plain brown again and she approached slowly, like he was a rabbit about to scare.

“So it’s true,” she said weakly, searching his face. “You’re… here.”

“What.”

Someone else came from the back room. A dark skinned boy that moved to the girl’s side and put a hand on her shoulder almost protectively. The look on his face wasn’t even close to friendly and Mitch glanced around the nearly-empty cafe wondering if he’d done something wrong.

“Dude, is this entire town against visitors? Seriously, what gives?”

The blonde-haired girl’s face tightened. She jerked away from the other guy and stalked out of sight and Mitch blinked. 

_ What the hell? _

“What can I get you?” The guy asked, voice toneless. Mitch wondered if he should even bother ordering; would they spit in his coffee or something? Because that would be rather unfortunate.

Against his better judgement, Mitch pulled out his wallet. “Coffee, black. Small please.”

“Course.”

The guy was moving away before Mitch had even paid and he blinked again, looking down at the five dollar bill in his hand. With a sigh, Mitch set it on the counter and moved over to an empty table.

The faster he completed this mission, the faster he could be out of this town. It was giving him the creeps and he felt like he was missing something. Constantly.

It was unsettling.

As he watched, the girl came back into view but this time she was on the phone and looked agitated. Her eyes would flick to where Mitch sat every once in a while and then she’d look sharply away, running a hand through her hair.

Mitch nearly had a heart attack when a new barista appeared at his side— with curly hair and soft blue eyes. He was looking at Mitch with a fragile expression on his face and when he offered over his coffee, his hand trembled. Mitch took it after a moment of hesitation and forced a smile.

“Thanks, dude.”

The barista didn’t say anything. Only hurried out of sight, the blonde-haired girl following after him. The dark-skinned guy was still standing behind the counter, arms crossed as he regarded Mitch coldly.

Mitch decided it was time to leave. This place clearly wasn’t customer friendly.

The entire town wasn’t, it seemed.

It was then that Mitch saw the guy standing across the street watching him. Looking up from his cup, Mitch straightened and stared as he caught sight of a new stranger staring at him, fingers creeping toward the blade hidden underneath his shirt.

The guy wore a leather jacket and had his hands tucked into his pockets, starting straight ahead even as he and Mitch locked eyes. He didn’t shy away or pretend he wasn’t staring. Mitch couldn’t make out his face very well but the man looked downright murderous; and that made his skin itch.

Swallowing hard, Mitch turned away.

He considered going back into the coffee shop, if only to escape this man’s gaze. But instead, Mitch glanced down at his cup and dropped it into the nearest trash can, and started down the sidewalk. He didn’t want to glance back but curiosity won over and Mitch glanced over his shoulder— but the man was gone. The place he’d been standing was empty.

Mitch shuddered, facing forward again. Once more, he was struck by realization that something in this town wasn’t right.

And he didn’t think it was just the werewolves.


	5. Chapter 5

Mitch dreamed of screams and howls and gunshots that cut through the air. He dreamed that he stumbled blindly through the darkness, baseball bat gripped tightly in his hand, and then there was someone grabbing his arm and dragging him back, behind one of the pine trees and away from the sounds of screams.

Mitch managed to twist loose and whirled around toward his attacker. Only to stumble back at the sight of bright red eyes.

His heart leaped into his throat and he would have tried to go for his gun. But he didn’t have any control over his own body. Instead, his hands stayed firmly by his sides and only balled into fists, and he backed against the tree with a raised jaw. The man across from him growled.

“Dammit, Stiles, I told you to stay back!”

“Yeah, well, I can fight, Sourwolf!”

“I know you can fight,” the man said, his eyes flashing even brighter. There was a hint of fang to his snarl and while Mitch tried to recoil away from it, he only stayed stock-still. “But this isn’t a battle I want you in. Not here. Not this time.”

Mitch balled his fists even tighter. There was a strange anger coiling in his chest. He clenched his teeth and glared at the man. 

“So you want me to run, dude, is that it? You want me to what, cower here in the darkness until the fight is over?”

“I want you to stay safe.”

“I’m not some token human you can pull off the playing field whenever you feel like it, asshole!”

“No,” the man said, a snarl in his voice. “But you are human, Stiles. And these are hunters without a code and a rogue omega without a mind of its own. The hunters aren’t chasing this thing, they’ve brought it here. And I don’t know why.”

Mitch snapped his mouth back shut, the head of his baseball bat dropping into the leaves. The man’s voice was ragged and he looked terrified.

Suddenly, all the anger faded from his chest. He bit down on his lower lip and, after a long moment, nodded. The man’s face softened as he stepped forward, cupping the sides of Mitch’s face and touching his forehead against Mitch’s own.

“You’re mine, Stiles. You can’t get hurt.”

“I won’t.”

“I know,” the man said, suddenly pulling his baseball bat from his hands and snapping it across his knee. “Because I won’t let you.”

Mitch made a startled noise of surprise and then leaped forward, shouting a sharp curse. But the man was already moving away, turning back toward the fight. Mitch felt cold angry rage build back up in his throat. But also hurt. He stood there, hidden by the darkness, away from the fighting, as chaos continued to rage through the air.

_ I won’t let you.  _

Suddenly, there was a growl filling the night behind him. Mitch whirled around right as glowing blue eyes cut through the darkness. His heart lodged in his throat and he leaped for his broken baseball bat, hitting the ground hard.

The thing leaped forward with a howl. Mitch didn’t manage to roll in time, screaming as sharp claws sliced across his back.

He woke up in a cold sweat.

Mitch laid there for a moment, gun wrenched from underneath his pillow and held tightly in his hand as he panted. Daylight flooded into the room and he could hear moving cars from outside of his window. Mitch took a deep breath and dropped his face into his arms, trying to recall every detail of his dream that he could.

But it wasn’t much. Little flashes. Brightly glowing eyes. The name  _ ‘Mitch’  _ ringing over and over again through his ears.

Mitch groaned and shoved his gun back underneath his pillow, pulling himself out of bed.

He changed quickly, looking into the mirror for only a moment. Or at least, he’d meant to. But then he paused, staring in wonder at his reflection.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shaved, but there was only a little more than a shadow of stubble tracing across his jaw. Mitch stepped closer, turning his face from side to side, and brushing his fingers over scar marks on his neck that he didn’t remember.

They looked like they’d belonged to claws. A shiver crept up his spine.

When Mitch started to turn around, he froze. His eyes flitted back and he nearly had a heart attack as he caught the phantom hallucination of spirals curling across his right shoulder blade. He froze, blinking at it, and then reached up, running careful fingers over pale skin. 

There was nothing there now. But Mitch could’ve sworn he remembered there being more. Dark black spirals of a mark that he didn’t recognize. 

His throat felt tight and Mitch blinked hard.

There were scars across his back too. Scars that he didn't remember getting, but they were there. Mitch forced himself to turn back away and pulled on a shirt, grabbing his laptop and dropping down onto the edge of his bed.

There was a series of messages waiting for him. The longer he scrolled, the more urgent they became. Then they were in all caps.

The very last one was  _ ‘Gerard is pissed’.  _ Mitch’s blood went cold.

Slowly, he clicked on the video button. And within seconds, he was looking at Matt’s face.

The hunter made a startled noise and then threw a glance over his shoulder, before leaning close. Mitch hadn’t really expected contact to be made, especially due to the whole  _ “When there’s a need for contact, contact will be made with you.”  _ statement. But Matt was here, in front of him now, and he might as well take advantage of the situation. Mitch sighed, raising an eyebrow.

“What does Gerard want?”

“Uh, what?  _ What?  _ Mitch, you don’t do that! You get to make contact like this! Get the fuck off. If there’s a message sent, you answer it by typing. I’m not supposed to be seeing your face right now.”

“I want to talk to Gerard.”

“That’s not an order you get to make, idiot!”

Mitch scrubbed a hand over his face, thoroughly done with everything. He hadn’t been properly prepped for this mission. Nothing made sense. They’d told Mitch some of his ‘necessary’ memories would come back but the only thing he could remember seemed to be another life that didn’t belong to him.

He was tired, confused, and a little achy from getting thrown into a wall the other day.

“Don’t care. I want to talk to him.”

“End the call, idiot!”

“You end it.”

“This is a one way call,” Matt hissed. “And people are starting to look. End the call.”

“So if I figure out how to call Gerard, he’ll have to listen to me?”

“You have a death wish.”

“Only a little bit,” Mitch said. Then he blinked, narrowing his eyes. “What the hell are you anyway, the tech guy?”

Matt’s frown deepened. “I’m good with electronics.”

“Oh. Well, that’s just great assassin material.”

“Hang up.”

“I wasn’t prepared for this mission,” Mitch said. “I have no idea what the hell is going on and I haven’t even found this Derek Hale yet—”

“Mitch, someone is coming. Hang  _ up.” _

Mitch growled but finally did as he was told, hitting the ‘end call’ button. He glared at his laptop for a moment and the blinking messages, before slamming it shut and stuffing it back underneath his mattress. He moved around the motel room, grabbing his knife and a wad of cash, before shoving out of the room and stalking down the hallway.

Fine. If no one would tell him what was going on, Mitch would figure it out for himself. He’d find this elusive Derek Hale and kill him and then Mitch was going right back to H.U.N.T.E.R and demanding answers.

He grabbed a cup of coffee from the same place as yesterday and ignored the same strange looks he got. The curly-haired barista with the name tag of ‘Isaac’ brought him his coffee shakily, before all but fleeing away. Mitch ignored that too.

He went back to ‘Beacon Hills Used Books’ and was relieved to see there wasn’t a scary red-head on duty. The old woman working very politely found him a map of Beacon Hills and then Mitch deposited himself in the darkest corner, studying it until his head hurt.

The town wasn’t very big. The preserve that surrounded it actually seemed bigger than the town itself, and Mitch found himself almost instantly drawn to the clear space located right in the middle.

“This,” Mitch said, wandering back over to the counter and pointing at it. “What’s there?”

The old woman peered at it for a moment before glancing back up. “That’s the old Hale house, dear. Burned down years ago, but the successor came back and built it up again.”

“Successor?”

“Derek Hale.”

Mitch’s stomach clenched. He nodded and folded the map back up, sliding it into his pocket before turning and walking right back out of the shop.

Now he had a location, at least.

He had one more thing to do first, though.

Mitch turned down the nearest alleyway and followed it all the way to the end. He waited there for a moment, fingers creeping into his sleeve, and the moment there was a shadow of movement behind him, Mitch turned right back around and caught a young man by the neck, slamming him against the wall.

He’d seen the idiot following him from the moment Mitch had left the motel parking lot. A shadow that detached itself from the darkness and had followed him everywhere he’d gone. The coffee shop, the bookstore. There’d been a constant silhouette shape outside of the window the entire time that Mitch would’ve had to have been an idiot to miss.

He shoved the knife against the man’s neck now, and clenched his jaw as red eyes flashed. Just like in his dream. Except this wasn’t the man that Mitch remembered.

“Who the hell are you? Why are you following me?”

The younger man raised his hands, eyes fading back to a normal brown. His jaw was a little crooked and he just looked terrified. “Woah, dude, I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Mitch dug his knife even harder into the flesh of the man’s neck. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Scott.”

“Why are you following me?”

“I got… lost?”

Mitch clenched his jaw, slowly raising his chin. “You don’t want to test me, Scott.”

“I can see that.”

“What the hell is wrong with this town?”

Scott stiffened at that but didn’t say a word. Mitch slowly moved back, sheathing his knife as he gave the boy a long look. 

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“I— what?”

“One of the monsters.”

Scott flinched like he’d been hit. Mitch tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. Scott looked human but from the things Gerard had shown him— and the thing that had come to his room the other night— Mitch knew better. 

“But you’re not the one that attacked me.”

“What?”

“That one had blue eyes.”

Scott looked at him for a long moment and then looked away, muttering ‘Peter’ underneath his breath so soft that Mitch almost didn’t catch it. But that piqued his interest and he regarded the man for another long moment. Then he took another step back.

“Follow me again and I won’t hesitate to use my knife a little more creatively.”

The man nodded and all but turned on his heel, taking off back down the alleyway. Mitch watched him until he groaned, turning back away.

So clearly, this wasn’t going to be a discrete thing. His previous night visitor probably should’ve alerted him to that, but now Mitch had to wonder who else he’d come across with unnatural eye colors. The red-head from day one, maybe. The strange barista workers.

The Sheriff? It was a possibility.

Mitch pulled the map back out of his pocket and looked it over, scrubbing a hand over his face. The preserve. The rebuilt Hale house. That’s where he’d start.

And hopefully, that’s where he’d find Derek Hale.

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, the comments and support you guys leave make my day. I've wanted to write a fic like this for a long time and after watching American Assassin again, I couldn't help the headcanons. So here we are! I hope you all enjoy.


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